


Felidae

by pauliemeatballs



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-02-01 04:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauliemeatballs/pseuds/pauliemeatballs
Summary: A comfy little fic where Siebren offers to trim Reinhardt's beard. This is around the point in their relationship where they've slept together a couple of times, so I wanted to illustrate a deepening of their chemistry and the breaking down of whatever's left of their walls. I also wanted to write more from Rein's perspective and how he processes his feelings for Siebren, making him a little more vulnerable while Siebren himself becomes a little more forward and confident. Rated M for an allusion to sex near the end, but no explicitly written scenes.
Relationships: Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper/Reinhardt Wilhelm
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Felidae

**Author's Note:**

> -I just like writing dialogue!  
-This takes place after my first fic of them

Reinhardt couldn’t remember the last time he felt this self conscious about anything. Melancholy, definitely. Cautious, absolutely. But trapping himself in his bathroom and fretting over how he looked was never something he envisioned himself doing almost daily; worrying about whether loose hair or tied-back hair looked better; tugging at his beard and feeling torn between trimming it or at least styling it somewhat; wondering if it was the right day to show some skin or settle in a plain t-shirt. It wasn’t something that particularly irritated him. Perplexed was the better word. Ana had been his best friend for almost forty years, and he never felt obligated to be anything more or less than himself around her, much as she did. But now he felt a gnawing need to be better, to be bigger, to be more noticed. He decided on a ponytail to free up room around his face, since his beard already took up so much of it. He also made a mental note to visit a barber sometime soon, as he felt it was slowly leaving the realm of viking warrior and entering that of unkempt street vagrant. A plain black tee would be fine. The contrast with his white hair would look flattering. Rein opened his medicine cabinet and began misting cologne over his chest and onto his wrists, spritzing the two back areas on his neck just below his ears for good measure. It was a lovely smell, possibly Rein’s favorite, something that reminded him of pine and apples and sandalwood mixed with natural musk. As he looked up at himself in the mirror once he closed the cabinet, he felt a slight swell of pride. The ponytail gave off the illusion that his hair was handsomely slicked back, and did well to remove much of the volume around his eyes and cheeks. He silenced the almost immediate panic in his head over which bottoms to wear by picking a pair comfortable dark jeans, which acted as a reminder on their own for him to step out later, and dug through a nearby drawer as he exited the bathroom for his favorite black leather wristbands. _ This is good, this is good, this’ll be good _ , he thought. _ It’s just Siebren. _

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Come in!” rang Siebren’s tweedy voice from the intercom before the *_ click _* of his lock invited Rein into his lab. A small wave of wonder washed over him when he saw Siebren floating in place before his whiteboard, sitting cross-legged on nothing and scribbling math problems with the same grace and dexterity of a seasoned typist. It gave Rein his obvious answer as to how Siebren managed to answer the intercom and unlock the door without having moved at all. 

“Hello, _ liefste _,” Siebren chirped in a slight singsong voice, made more endearing by the fact that he did not avert his eyes from the equations. Rein greeted him back with a warm smile, which Siebren seemed to feel across the room, and roused him to meet his gaze after all. 

“Could you get me a beer?” he politely requested. Rein strolled over to the fridge in the top left corner of the lab, the insides barren save for some beverages and a few banana muffins Siebren had wrapped in plastic. Rein yanked the blue and gold can from the plastic rings tethering it to the other five and tossed it to Siebren casually, it's momentum slowly winding down before it reached his hand.

“Wait a bit before you ope--”

“AH! _ Verdorie-- _” The beer spurted and frothed upward through the opening, and Siebren quickly tried to close his mouth around it to prevent spillage, sucking the web of skin between his finger and thumb and eyeing Reinhardt while he laughed.

“You don’t have to worry about things spilling, you fool.”

“I do, actually. I don’t like particles floating around me when I’m working.” Siebren underlined himself by swiping at a little golden drop of beer near his head with his thumb & closing his lips around it as if it were frosting, then slurping loudly to free the froth from the top of the can.

“Attractive.”

“Thank you. Can I have a paper towel, please?”

Rein tore a sheet from the roll on top of the fridge and walked over to hand it to Siebren. He felt his face heat up with joy and affection at how cranky he looked in the moment, and at how it seemed to deepen his wrinkles. He wiped at his face and the side of the can before taking another gulp, and Rein took the short time to appreciate the broadness of his nose. It appeared to jut out from between his eyes with the kind of majesty Rein would liken to an age-old cliffside or a slope on a mountain. He felt the heat more acutely in the apples of his cheeks.

“Why don’t you curse?”

“I curse, what are you talking about?”

“No you do _ not _. You curse like a little boy who doesn’t want to get in trouble.”

Siebren flushed. “Well....I just don’t like how certain words taste in my mouth, if that makes sense.”

“It does, don’t worry. I’m not making fun of you,” Rein mused while poking Siebren’s hip, tickling a smile out of the older man. “What is this you’re working on here?”

“Oh, you--you want to know?”

“Of course. I don’t know math but...well, the way you work on it just makes me curious.”

The warmth in Siebren’s smile changed in a way that made sweat vapor cooly from Rein’s forehead, showing how profoundly moved he was that someone cared about his interest. It made Rein want to reach up and pull him in for a hug.

“Well, the main thing isn’t the math itself, but the language in which you speak it,” Siebren said as he descended. “Anything can be explained easily enough if you divorce yourself from, well, from all the hullabaloo, as it were. It looks complicated but the goal is actually quite simple. You see, math is very much like...like your exercise, in a sense. The ultimate goal is to simply gain muscle mass or...or lose weight or what have you, and the process to get there is ridiculously strenuous, and it's like…” Siebren paused, having had his gaze locked into the invisible web his excited hands were weaving as he spoke. “Oh, God, forgive me, I sound so condescending,” he whispered, looking up at him with regret. Rein felt something like anxiety seize him, not inwardly at his own actions but towards Siebren for feeling as if he’d scorned him in some way. It couldn’t be any less true. 

“Siebren, you’re fine. Really, you are,” he said, squeezing Siebren’s shoulders softly. “You’re not insulting me or anything.”

“I could have picked a better analogy. I make you sound like...well, like a meathead--”

“Siebren. Look at me.” He did, concern furrowing his thick eyebrows. “You’re doing just what you described. You said nothing offensive.”

Siebren pressed his lips together, eyes widening as he realized his own extraneous dramatics, and Rein had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing; not at him directly, but how captivating his strangeness was, a strangeness that wasn’t aberrant but wholly characteristic of him, such that it could not possibly be divided from him without making him incomplete and dulling his shine. He looked down and exhaled sharply through his nose, picking up where he left off with the sort of immediacy that worked to conceal his embarrassment. 

“Okay, okay, so...where was I? Ah, yes! Come over here.” He took Rein’s shoulders and guided him to the center of the whiteboard, pointing upward at the equations that looked so foreign to Rein that it almost disturbed him.

“So, over here, we have, um-- well the whole thing is to determine my max weight, in a sense. How much pressure I can exert before it starts to take a toll on my body.” Rein felt a sour dip in his gut at the thought, but kept looking ahead, not wanting to interrupt him. Siebren continued to describe his work, slowly but surely making a simple trail out of a maze, explaining how his body weight and his actual max weight in the gym factored in to the amount of pressure he could normally exert with casual focus, or when a situation required full force. Rein felt happiness well up within him the more he understood. He felt he had nestled comfortably in a room within Siebren’s brain that he previously lacked access to, and it felt as comforting and as welcoming as the love in his heart.

“That’s the gist of it, I suppose.”

Rein kept his gaze locked on the board, grinning fondly. The wisps and scribbles of marker, the impromptu grids and the alarming amount of letters mixed with numbers, all had a different meaning now. Instead of alien tendrils, they became silky ribbons. Instead of a lost language that thrashed roughly on the tongue, the letters and numbers wove together to create music. He understood.

“Does the class have any questions?” Siebren asked, amusement brightening his voice before he took another sip of beer.

“I don’t think so. But…” He turned to face Siebren. “...This makes me happy, and I want to be taught more.”

A blend of bashfulness and austere pride washed over Siebren’s face, making him fold his arms. “Oh! Well... anytime! I’m always here, you know. Literally.” Another swig, this time keeping his eyes on Rein. When his lips parted from the can, a small dribble ran down the side of his mouth, and his hand shot up to absentmindedly wipe it away before turning to look at the board once again.

“I should turn this all into data soon. Don’t want to lose it.”

“Go ahead, take your time. I’m about to go get a haircut anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I think my beard is hiding too much of my face. I mean, who am I to deprive everyone of this, huh?” Rein grinned a cheesy grin and fanned his fingers out near his face to present himself.

“You’re right," Siebren purred. "Who wouldn’t want to look at you? You’re so…” He sauntered up to Rein & squeezed his shoulders, studying him with a sort of sensual hunger that made Rein's face heat up again. In the moment, he felt temporarily grateful for the mask of his beard.

“Rectangular.”

The word choice mixed with the tension hit Rein like a punch to the gut, and his jovial laughter bounced off of the walls and high ceilings of the lab, as did Siebren’s. His own laugh was deep, but scratchy as well, and more enunciated. 

“Why don’t you save a few bucks?” Siebren offered as he caught his breath. “I learned how to cut my own hair when I was up in the colonies.”

“Oh, really? And how long did it take you to master that?”

“I haven’t _ mastered _ it by any means. My hair is short and relatively easy to take care of. Plus when you’re up there and have nothing but time, you’ll do anything to avoid being bored.”

“So there’s no guarantee that you’ll be able to do my beard right.”

“Don’t shoot me down just yet! I practiced long hair once on one of my female coworkers, and she was very pleased with the result.”

_ Once _ , Rein thought. He smiled and prepared another quip, but at the same time he felt as if a duplicate of himself were shoving him violently in Siebren’s direction, wordlessly chastising him: _ “He is what makes you so nervous. He is what makes you want to be better. So be better.” _

“I trust you,” he sighed. “Can I give you a photo for reference?”

“Of course,” Siebren replied, inching closer to Rein as he whipped out his phone and browsed the gallery.

“You see here how it's still kind of long and in a diamond shape?”

“I do, and my, you look wonderful.”

“And what, I don’t now?” Rein quickly quipped to distract from the molten spike that pierced his heart.

“I did _ not _ say that. You still look wonderful. I’ve just...never seen you like this.” Siebren continued to look at the picture, coquettishly holding a hand to his cheek, and Rein continued looking at him. He adored his wrinkles, to the point where he’d feel obligated to ask Siebren to just sit so that he could appreciate them for a longer period of time. Like Rein, he had freckles here and there. A particularly cute one, in his opinion, was just barely visible on his upper lip, of which Rein noticed always looked pursed no matter what while also emphasizing his underbite at the same time. The direction and shape of his nose made Siebren’s face appear as if he were always looking down on something, as if you’d failed a test and it gravely disappointed him, but Rein knew it only made his kindness shine brighter like the sun after rain. He, like his love, was as sharp and severe as he was breathtaking, like the sudden shock of taking a steep fall through the sky, and the sensation of untethered tranquility that followed.

"_ Niet zo geweldig als jij, (Not as wonderful as you,) _" Rein murmured in carefully pronounced Dutch. He felt a swell of pride watching Siebren's face light up with bright red heat as he kept his eyes locked on the screen. Rein deemed it as an attempt to efface the pleasant surprise of the compliment, as if meeting his gaze would force him to completely succumb to his ardor. A smile betrayed him, and Rein egged his feelings on further by wrapping a large arm around him, gently squeezing his bicep. 

"Come on, _ kijk me aan, schatje. (Look at me, baby.)" _

The term of endearment hooked him immediately, and in the moment Siebren had never looked more like a comically conservative teacher hearing a lewd joke. It was as beautifully theatrical as any other part of his personality, and it made Rein grin wide enough to feel it in his cheeks. He watched Siebren process it: he looked away and blinked, a smile flashing on his face as he let himself feel profoundly wooed for a second before swallowing and straightening himself up, jutting his chin out in such a way that made him look like an arrogant owl. Reinhardt loved his arrogance. He loved his pride, his conceit, his vanity, never relayed with malice but with the utmost glittering flamboyance such that Rein wanted to pick him up and pin him against the wall and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until he felt the ardor was turning his skin inside out, until he felt the sun going down and nighttime reminded them how gloriously wasted the day was.

As if he had felt it all radiating from him, Rein’s eyes followed Siebren as he stepped in front of him to ball the collar of his t-shirt into his fist, yanking him down to make his dream manifest. The height difference between them was by no means extreme, the top of Siebren’s head coming up just shy of Reinhardt’s ear, but Siebren enjoyed looking up at Reinhardt, and Reinhardt enjoyed looking down at Siebren, and Siebren enjoyed standing on his toes to even it out. He’d released his grip as fast as he’d taken it, delicately ghosting his fingers against Reinhardt’s neck as if he wasn’t sure whether to clasp his hands around the back or cup his face. Rein wrapped his arms around the small of his back, breathing Siebren in. He smelled and tasted of his beer, along with a faint smell of office supplies like newly sharpened pencils and fresh paper and ink. He didn’t know where it stemmed from, since Siebren either worked from his whiteboard, his holopad, or his computer, but it was deeply, maddeningly alluring nonetheless. He pushed into the kiss, making Siebren groan pleasurably, before breaking it with a loud *smack*. They both sighed and chuckled at the same time.

“So, um, we should go get started,” Siebren said, still looking at Reinhardt’s lips and smoothing his hands over his muscular shoulders. Rein kept his gaze firmly locked on him, drinking in the display of his emotions. 

“We should. When you’re ready.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“There’s really not much to do, to be honest,” Siebren said while laying a towel down Rein’s front. “All I have to do is comb down those two sections and then trim the fuzzy bits, as it were.” 

Rein didn’t say anything, comfortably settling into the sizeable leather chair he’d hauled in from the lounge area of the hallway. He watched Siebren fuddle about in a white tank top and sweatpants, untangling the cord of his electric razor before combing his fingers through his beard.

“Wait, no. It doesn’t need to be sectioned…” he mumbled.

“Yeah, it's the mustache that makes it look like that,” Rein admitted, and caught a sour look from Siebren.

“You could have told me before.”

“Forgive me, _ ich habe mich in deinen Augen verloren, in deiner Schönheit, _” he sighed, clasping his hands together and fluttering his eyes. Siebren quickly tugged at Rein’s beard in response, smiling through his annoyed expression. 

“I’ll use a bigger comb setting so I can go about it gradually. Do you want me to bring my long mirror in to watch as I go or--”

“I trust you,” Rein reassured him with a smile. “I can wait.” He felt the smile in his heart as well when he noted the softness in Siebren’s eyes at the remark. It remained while he continued to comb the long white hair through his fingers, and as the buzzing of the razor echoed in his small bathroom. Rein closed his eyes calmly. Though he hadn’t let his beard grow out to such an extent before, he remembered previous haircuts being relatively short and sweet, since his more commonly known style remained somewhat fanned out at the ends, and thus did not require much shaping or lining up. 

“Did you ever grow facial hair?”

“Don’t talk. And no. I think it would look ghastly on me.”

“But your five o’clock shadow is so cute.”

“That’s different, and stop talking, I said. _ Stommeling _…” He gently knocked the side of the razor against Rein’s forehead for emphasis, and the larger man swallowed a giggle. As Siebren worked, the buzzing became a barely audible drone in the back of Rein’s mind, and he began to focus more on the slight sounds he made, and the way his hands felt on his skin. They were cool and smooth, and reminded Rein of skipping stones. His baser urges desperately made him want to worship them, to take them against his cheeks, to kiss the tips and the palm and the heel, to warm each finger between his lips. One hand was behind his head, keeping it leveled, while the pinky finger of the other unintentionally stroked the bare section of his cheek each time it moved downward. Siebren’s breathing was just as focused, and though he barely felt it, Rein would hear the sigh of his exhale through his nose. He still smelled like beer, and it made his belly dip from both arousal and yearning, enough that he opened his eyes and actually felt excited to see him as if they’d been apart. 

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

A moment of silence stretched on as they enjoyed each other’s presence. As if he’d read Rein’s mind again, Siebren leaned in to nuzzle him, and their lips grazed softly enough that the pit in Rein’s stomach became almost indistinguishable from real hunger. He closed his eyes again and gently pursed them against Siebren’s, and felt him smile.

“We’re getting there. Just a bit longer.”

The skin under Rein’s neck felt cooler as more of his beard wisped off onto the towel, distracting him enough that he exhaled sharply when he felt the pressure of Siebren climbing onto his lap and sitting back on his thighs. His eyes snapped open again to drink in the image of Siebren looming over him, focusing dutifully, though he was not willfully ignorant of what he’d done, a slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Rein responded by moving his hands from the armrest to grip Siebren from behind, and he merely continued to smile, not needing to look Rein in the eyes to know how it made him feel.

“Put your head back.”

Reinhardt obeyed. Siebren switched the comb on the razor and ran it along the curve of Rein’s neck, smoothing out any particularly wily wisps of hair before turning the razor off, setting it aside, and combing his fingers through once again.

“There you are,” he whispered with bright amusement in his voice. “_ Onder de manen van die leeuw. (Underneath that lion’s mane.) _”

“All finished?”

“Just about.” Siebren gave Rein a quick kiss on his cheek before getting up from his lap and reaching for his blow-dryer to give him a quick dusting off. 

“Will I regret looking in the mirror, or should I just spare you and take your word for it?” Rein asked playfully as he rose from the chair.

“Shut up.” Siebren stood pin-straight beside him, hands folded behind his back, and Rein gazed upon his work, profoundly exhilarated. Siebren had managed to get his beard back to almost an exact likeness, though Rein noticed it was a bit rounder than what was shown in the reference photos. He didn’t mind at all, considering it a unique signature.

“_ Wunderbare Arbeit, Schätzchen. (Wonderful work, sweetheart.) _”

Siebren stuck his nose in the air triumphantly, bringing his folded arms around to the front. “I think so.”

“Don’t be _ too _ humble, now.”

“I won’t.”

Reinhardt gave him a smirk of his own, ruffling his short gray hair before pulling him in closer to complete his reflection.

“Did the Crusaders...have animal themes, or was that just you?”

Rein let out a booming laugh. “That’s just my name,_ lieben _ . It just _ happened _ to go with...” Rein followed up by removing the band holding up his ponytail and shaking his head around with vain flair.

“Mmm, this looks so nice with your trim...what animal do you think I would be?” Siebren asked, draping his arms around Reinhardt’s shoulders.

“If you were a Crusader?”

“Either or. What do I remind you of?”

Rein pouted, trying to rattle his brain for something that he’d like _ and _ agree with. As he pondered, he began to squish Siebren’s cheeks together in his hands. He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, while Siebren continued to look at him expectantly, albeit with a slightly annoyed expression.

“Doesh thish help you thnnk?”

“Yes,” Rein replied with the quickness of a child wholly engrossed in play. He began to hum tunelessly while jostling Siebren’s cheeks in sync, before mashing his face almost completely between his palms and making Siebren pucker ridiculously in turn.

“Enough!” he exclaimed, swatting Reinhardt’s hands away and ignoring his incessant giggles. “What am I?”

“I think you are...a jaguar.”

The power behind the name of the animal made Siebren blink. “How so?”

“You are the spear to my hammer,” Rein explained in a low voice while wrapping his arms around him. “And jaguars have the sharpest teeth of all wildcats. They’re smaller than lions and tigers, but they’re the best at hunting, and they love conquering prey bigger than them. _ Wie du mich erobert hast. (As you have conquered me.) _”

Siebren blushed fiercely. “I wouldn’t exactly call you my prey.”

“And yet I am constantly at your mercy,” Rein crooned while pulling Siebren in for a remarkably tight hug, powerful enough to lift the older man off his feet.  
  


“_ Ich liebe dich, du Dummkopf, (I love you, you fool,) _” Siebren murmured against Rein’s neck.

“Ah! Your accent is so good!” Rein practically squealed, holding Siebren up under his arms as if he were his dance partner. Siebren flexed the mysterious muscle within to make himself a little lighter, and leaned in to give Reinhardt a long, deep, and firm kiss. As he did so, the flexing of the muscle lightened him even more, to the point where his legs floated out behind him as if he’d descended from the clouds, while Rein tethered him to the earth with his hands on his slim waist. 

“_ Je bent mijn favoriete persoon, (You’re my favorite person,) _” he whispered against Rein’s lips, and Rein returned a smile that relayed his love better than words could have.

“Will you join me in the shower and help me de-fuzz myself?”

“Of course,” Siebren purred, floating down enough that Rein could hold him up by the underside of his thighs, and look up at him.

“_ Du fluchst auch nicht, wenn wir zusammen sind. (You don’t curse when we’re together, either.) _”

“_ Dat zei je eerder al. (You said that earlier.) _”

“_ Nein, wenn wir _ zusammen sind _ . (No, when we’re _ together _ .) _”

“Oh…” Siebren realized. “_ Zou dat moeten? (Should I?) _” he asked coyly.

“_ Das liegt an dir. (That’s up to you.) _”

Siebren kissed Reinhardt’s forehead. “I’ll see what I can do. Let’s make it an even three times, shall we?”

“Three isn’t an even number.”

“I don’t care.”


End file.
